Love and Care
by Biobabe007
Summary: Sherlock has a moment of humanity and John want nothing but to make it better.


Love and Care

**A/N: I don't own Sherlock in any of its iterations, I'm just borrowing someone else's toys. All hail Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Moffit/Gattiss. **

**Smut of the M/M variety. If you don't like it there is the door *points* don't let it hit you in the way out. **

It had been 5 days and the case was finally finished. Both Sherlock and John were exhausted and were finally getting to leave The Yard; John trudging in front, half asleep on his feet, with Sherlock behind him. They were just about to get onto the elevator when Sally Donovan muttered something in their general direction. Sherlock would normally just let whatever she said go but this time he stopped dead in his tracks and turned to stare her down.

"What was that Officer?" Sherlock nearly spat.

"I said you're a freak!" Donovan turned from the direction she had been walking to perch her hands on her hips and glare at him. "I know; we all know you get some kind of sick glee from these kinds of cases but this bastard kills _children_ for God sakes and you stood there with a smile on your face. I know you don't care, you have no feelings, but you could at least be less obvious about it! It's sickening!"

John had come up behind Sherlock and had heard everything Donovan had said to his best friend. He was so shocked at her brashness that he barely felt Sherlock shove past him and into the elevator, not even waiting for him. John was only gob smacked for a minute though before he was flooded with rage and indignation for his friend but before he could even open his mouth, he and everyone else who had seen the incident was silenced with a loud voice.

"Donovan!" Lestrade had followed John and Sherlock down the hall to catch them for a second and had heard the whole thing. "You will give me your badge and you will take the next week without pay! I am sick of you and everyone here shitting on Sherlock like that! He may be wired a little differently than the rest of us but that does not give you the right to belittle him, especially when he does your job better then you do. You have shown extreme unprofessionalism and if you do it again I will sanction you. As for the rest of you, if I hear anyone insult him again I will be giving you the same treatment." Lestrade held his hand out for Donovan's badge but she didn't move. "Donovan…NOW!" She was shaken into movement and she handed over her badge with a black look on her face. She whirled around and started to head for the elevator to go home and as she passed John she gave him a smirk.

"Go on after your boyfriend then before he murders someone from boredom." This had not gotten past Lestrade either.

"Two weeks with no pay for unprofessionalism to John! Get out before you open your mouth again."

John just stood there and stared at the DI. He had never seen him raise his voice like that and he was suddenly glad to know he wasn't the only one who had the urge to defend Sherlock's honor like that. He started when Lestrade put a hand on his shoulder.

"John?"

"Yeah…thanks for that." John mumbled.

"No problem but she is right. You should probably go after him."

"Oh…Oh God. Sherlock!" John wrenched himself into motion and ran down the three flights of stairs and out the door of New Scotland Yard.

Sherlock burst out the doors and continued to run until he found himself leaning against the brick wall of an ally near NSY. He felt his body go numb and begin to shake and it had begun to rain; of course it would be raining. He never let what people said about him get to him. They were always talking behind his back; they were afraid of him but not because he was smarter than them; because he didn't act like they did, because he was different. The words kept echoing in his head.

_Freak_

_Psychopath_

_Sociopath_

_You get off on this! Seeing dead bodies._

He had been going five days without sleep or food. He was in desperate need of nicotine. His last patch was three days ago and the last caffeinated drink he had was 24 hours ago and it was a weak, brown sludge posing as coffee. He knew the effects that each of these withdrawals had on his body but he didn't recognize the effects of all of them at once. He slid down the wall to curl up on the ground, soaking wet and began to sob; loud chest wracking, voice cracking sobs. When he felt warm arms wrap around him he sobbed even harder.

John ran out of NSY into a torrent of rain and had no idea where Sherlock had gone to. He panicked for a brief moment before he heard something from the ally at the side of the building. He trotted over to find Sherlock huddled into a ball on the ground crying and his heart broke and his anger flashed again. _If Sally Donovan ever opens her mouth to speak to Sherlock ever again I swear I'll knock her block off. No one has the right to treat him like this; no one. _He slowly walked over to Sherlock and wrapped his arms around his friend and could feel him cry harder than he was before.

"Oh, Sherlock…" John cooed. "Let's get home ok?"

He didn't wait for a response from his friend but instead pulled him up off the ground and walked him over to the street and hailed a cab. John hoisted Sherlock into the cab and gave the order for Baker Street and within 20 minutes they were home and John walked Sherlock into the front door and up the stairs. He had calmed a bit on the drive but his eyes were still red and puffy and he would sniffle every few minutes. John had his hand on Sherlock's back and was rubbing calming circles through his soaked coat.

"Sherlock…why don't you go take a shower to get warm and I'll bring you some dry clothes yeah?"

Sherlock nodded slightly and slowly moved away down the hall to the bathroom. John watched him and waited to hear the click of the bathroom door before moving into Sherlock's room to find his robe, sleep pants, and shirt. He piled the clean clothes on the kitchen table and set the kettle on the stove; while waiting for the kettle to boil John took Sherlock's clothes to the bath room. He didn't want to barge in on the detective so he quietly knocked on the door but didn't hear anything; no rustling of clothes, no water running, so he slowly opened the door to find Sherlock still dressed and sitting on the toilet with his head in his hands shaking. John sighed and set the clothes on the counter next to the sink and moved over to his best friend and slowly carded his hands through his still dripping hair. Without speaking John turned and pulled the shower curtain open and turned the tap, holding his fingers under the water until it was a good temperature and plugged the tub. He turned to Sherlock, who was watching him, and John motioned for him to stand up. Sherlock stood and John started to slowly remove his sopping coat and scarf, Sherlock toed his shoes off and John scooped them up with his other outer wear and headed for the door of the bathroom.

"I'm going to hang this up and when I get back I expect you to be in the tub ok?" Sherlock nodded and John exited the bathroom, closing the door behind him and waiting to hear the rustle of Sherlock continuing to get undressed. When he did finally hear it he moved back out to the living room and hung up his and Sherlock's coat, the scarf, and set his and Sherlock's shoes by the door. He switched off the kettle and trotted up to his room the change out of his slightly less wet clothes onto his sleep wear and headed back down, grabbing a small stool before going back in the bathroom. Sherlock was sitting in the tub with his head bowed and he turned slightly when John entered. Again, without words John set the stool behind Sherlock and reached out for the bottle of the sage shampoo and he squeezed some into the palm of his hand.

"Dunk down and get your hair wet." John instructed and Sherlock slid down under the water for a brief second before sliding back up to a sitting position. John began to lather the shampoo into Sherlock's hair, slowly massaging his scalp. Sherlock just sat in silence, his actions did not reveal that he was enjoying John's attention but he did not shy away from it either. John did not speak; he knew Sherlock didn't need comforting words but instead he needed actions he could deduce. He needed the truth that he could come to himself without the clutter that others tried to throw in his path, not that it mattered; he always saw through the clutter. After a few minutes John stopped and dunked his hands in the water to rinse them and Sherlock slid down and dunked his head to rinse the soap from his hair. John got up and moved around so he would be sitting in front of Sherlock and perched on the edge of the tub. When Sherlock re-emerged from the water John handed him a bar of soap.

"Wash your face and we'll get you out and dressed." Sherlock didn't object and took the soap from John and lathered his hands before handing the bar back and scrubbed his face while John put the bar away and rinsed his hands again. Sherlock rinsed one final time and John stood with the towel held up in front of him to provide Sherlock with a screen of sorts and when Sherlock took the towel from him John leaned down and unplugged the drain.

"I'll be in the kitchen when you're dressed."

Sherlock stood and watched his friend exit the small bathroom. He had never had anyone take care of him since his mother; since he was a small boy. Yes there were people who looked out for him but John cared for him, took care of him, when he forgot or refused to care for himself. He toweled off and got dressed; heading to the kitchen to see what his friend would do next. When he entered the kitchen John turned and pointed at a seat at the kitchen table and Sherlock took it without question. John was busy at the stove and soon Sherlock had a cup of tea sitting in front of him. He sipped at it and could tell John had added sugar to his, which he usually did to apologize for yelling at him but this time was different, it was more like a plaster for an emotional cut; sweet to rid the taste of sour. After a few more minutes John set down two bowls of hot soup and a plate of toast and sat across from the detective. Sherlock just watched him while he tucked into his meal.

"Why?" Sherlock whispered. It was the first thing he had said since he had challenged Donovan at NSY.

"Hmmm?" John looked into Sherlock's face and found confusion, fear, and hurt; something he had not seen in his friend ever. John broke into a small smile.

"Why do you think Sherlock?" He had no intention of telling him what he wanted to know. Sherlock wouldn't believe it if he was told. He had to know it with what he observed. "Eat before it gets cold." John motioned to the bowl in front of Sherlock and went back to finishing his own. Sherlock ate slowly at first but soon realized just how hungry he was and abandoned the spoon in favor of drinking the soup straight from the bowl. When he was finished Sherlock sat back and resumed watching John who had risen to clear the table of the dishes. John saw Sherlock watching, observing, cataloging his every move and the implications they held. John exited the kitchen and went over to the door of Sherlock's room and waited for Sherlock to follow, which he soon did. John ushered him into his room and lit the lamp on side table and pulled back the covers. Sherlock looked from John to the bed and back again.

"You haven't slept in five days Sherlock. Get some shut eye, I'll be right here when you fall asleep and I'll be right here when you wake. OK?" even under stress Sherlock was not one to be coddled or told what to do but he had been so upset earlier and now he couldn't fathom why John was treating him this way that he simply did so he could observe as long as possible. John watched him slide under the covers and pulled them up over him and switched off the light. He went over to the corner of Sherlock's room and dragged the arm chair over to the side of the bed, plopped down into it and propped his feet up onto the bed. He could feel Sherlock's knees in the press of the balls of his feet and he smiled as he spread an extra blanket over himself and he settled in to sleep there in the chair. It was quiet for a few minutes while John listened to the sound of Sherlock's breathing before his friend spoke again.

"John" His voice seemed to be back to its original timber but it still betrayed some of the confusion Sherlock felt at John's behavior.

"Yeah"

"What are you doing?"

"I promised I would be here when you fell asleep and when you woke. The best way for me to do that would be to be here all night."

Sherlock sighed. "If you insist on being here then you may as well come lay in the bed. Your shoulder will bother you all day tomorrow if you sleep in that chair."

"Are you sure Sherlock? I won't do anything that you are uncomfortable with."

"I'm sure John." Sherlock's voice had softened and he shifted under the covers. John rose from the chair and dropped the blanket in the seat and padded around to the opposite side of the bed and crawled in under the covers. He left a fair amount of space between him and the detective and settled in the pillows facing the center of the bed. Just as he was about to drift off to sleep he felt Sherlock shift towards him and he reached out a hand that found its way around Sherlock's midsection and the detective shifted closer. John tightened his grip on Sherlock's chest and shifted closer as well, curling around the man who needed comforting.

"I can hear you thinking. Sleep Sherlock and you can ask me anything you want in the morning." John could feel Sherlock settle into the bed and he stifled a yawn. Sherlock curled his fingers around John's and let himself sleep.

Sherlock woke in the gray hours of the morning with the weight of John's arm around him and the press of John behind him. He lay there not wanting to move and disturb his friend and if he was honest with himself he didn't want John to wake and move away. He began to evaluate everything that occurred yesterday from the time he left NSY to now to try and understand. He understood the concept of love, but he had no real practical application of the emotion. He didn't understand what it felt like, nor did he understand the many ways someone might express love to another person. He finally rolled over to his other side to face John and his shifting woke the ex-Army man and Sherlock was greeted by a pair of warm brown eyes that didn't judge him, or look for his weakness, or cause him pain.

"Good morning Sherlock." John squeezed his arm that was flung over Sherlock and then sat up and stretched. "How did you sleep?"

Sherlock also rose to a sitting position and turned to his friend. "That was the best I've slept in…"he paused to think, "years. Thank you John."

"Of course. I'll just go make us some tea yeah?" John slid out from under the covers and made for the door.

"John…" John stopped and looked at Sherlock expectantly. "Can you bring it back in here and sit with me a while?"

"Yeah, I don't see why not." John smiled at the thought of tea in bed with Sherlock and moved into the kitchen leaving the bedroom door open so he could get the tray in without difficulty. _Don't get your hopes up John. Yesterday was about comforting a friend who needed it and not about you or how you feel. If he doesn't feel the same, and let's face it he most likely doesn't, then you need to be ok with that. You would rather be unrequited and have your friendship than push the issue and be tossed out ass over teakettle._ John was roused from his thoughts by the whistling of the tea kettle and he began to make two cups of tea adding the right amounts of milk and sugar to the appropriate mugs and headed back to the bedroom. He tapped the door to mostly closed with his foot and reached out to hand Sherlock his cup and went around the bed to crawl back in under the covers and enjoy the beginning of his day. For what seemed like years the comfortable silence settled over the two men as they sipped their tea each of them lost to the workings of their own minds.

"John?"

"Yes Sherlock."

"Why did you do all that for me yesterday? You know you didn't have to."

"I know I didn't have to Sherlock. But let's be honest, no matter what I told you, you were either too upset to properly understand or were too suspicious of why I would do those things for you. I need you to tell me what you observed in me, to know the truth because you _know _it not because you were told it. So, genius of mine, deduce why I did what I did." With this John turned to look at his friend and watch that mad brain whir into action. It didn't matter to John what he was running over in his head, he always liked watching him work. It was ironic this time that John already knew the conclusion and Sherlock was still coming to it. It was usually the other way around, with Sherlock already at the end and John doing his best to not be a major idiot. He gave a wry smile as his friend began to speak.

"I don't know John. I know that you are my friend and you concern yourself with my well being but you have never tended to me that way before. I am at a loss as to what reasons you had for doing it."

John sat there and stared at his friend surprised. "You have no idea why another person would be compelled to care for and look after the needs, emotional and physical, of another person? Why I would want to do that for you?"

Sherlock shook his head. "John, in my field of experience providing that level of care for someone usually indicates a strong attachment and it also usually ends up with someone dead."

"Well, yes I suppose that is true. Sherlock, when was the last time you felt truly loved?"

"I suppose it would be when I was a small child. I became very independent at an early age so I didn't have a lot of bonding time with either of my parents. I didn't feel I needed it."

"And what about lovers when you were older? Did no one love you?"

"There were one or two people that seemed to care but they were all using me for one reason or another. And after a couple attempts at a deeper physical relationship, with disastrous effects I extricated myself from that kind of thing."

"Do you think I'm using you?" John was suddenly worried that Sherlock would think he was being used again and if John ever got up the gumption to try and tell Sherlock how he felt then it could go terribly awry. Sherlock turned to face John and began to study him intently, searching John's face for every indicator of every emotion John held. After a few minutes of intense scrutiny Sherlock breathed a deep sigh.

"No, I don't believe you are using me John." John let out the breath he didn't know he was holding and relaxed.

"Sherlock, I would like to do something for you but I'm not sure you will be entirely comfortable with it. If you agree and you find you don't feel the same as I do after then I don't want our friendship to change."

"John, honestly, what could you possibly do that would change the friendship we have?"

"I would like you to let me love you." John had become ridged again and he was very scared of the next words that would come from his friend. If he said no then that was that, no harm no foul. But if he said yes then things could get very complicated very fast.

"I don't understand." Sherlock frowned. He didn't like not understanding something and what John had asked confused him. John just let his head bow; of course Sherlock didn't understand what he meant. He supposed it was now or never.

"It may be easier to show you rather than try to explain it to you. Will you let me do that?" John searched the face of the man he had pined for since the day he moved in. Sherlock gave a cursory nod and John set his tea cup down on the night stand on his side of the bed. Sherlock was sitting up and leaning against the headboard with his knees slightly bent and his legs apart and John utilized this to his advantage. He pulled the covers back so that Sherlock's legs were exposed and moved to sit on his knees between them and took the opportunity to look into Sherlock's quicksilver eyes for the first time since yesterday. They searched his face but they were sure and confident as always. John steadied himself in front of the detective with his hands resting on his thighs.

"Sherlock, if you get uncomfortable and want me to stop just say so ok. If you don't want to do this then we don't have to."

"John, please just get on with whatever it is you're…" Sherlock was cut off by the sensation of John's hand on his face, cupping his cheek and the feel of John's lips against his. It was chaste; John didn't want to push his boundaries too far too fast. Sherlock didn't move at first and John began to move away but Sherlock reached up and ran his fingers against the crest of John's cheek and then carded them through the soft short hair at the back of John's neck. John smiled into Sherlock's lips as he was pulled back in and he allowed himself to be a little bolder. He pressed onto Sherlock again and flicked his tongue out to swipe along Sherlock's bottom lip and Sherlock parted his lips and tilted his chin up so John could explore better and John took the invitation. He sucked Sherlock's bottom lip in between his own and pulled gently before delving into Sherlock's mouth feeling out every crevice, tasting tea and the slight twinge of morning breath. His pulse raced and he thought his heart might beat itself out of his ribcage and he could feel himself becoming more aggressive. He had hoped for this moment for so long and he had come to terms with his feelings for his flat mate long enough ago that it didn't matter if he thought of himself as gay or not. He had moved his hands to fist in Sherlock's curls and he had risen to his knees to tower over Sherlock, to dominate him. He could feel Sherlock's hands gripping at his hips and fisting in the bottom of his shirt. John pulled away and settled back onto his knees keeping their foreheads resting against each other; each of them breathing hard.

"You ok?" John asked between breaths. Sherlock nodded and rested both of his hands behind John's neck.

"I didn't see this."

John gave a short laugh that was mostly a puff of air. "Of all the things you deduce about me on a daily basis and you didn't see this?" The question was a bit incredulous. "Sherlock, no matter what anyone and I mean _anyone_, says I love you. You are the most incredible person I have ever met." Sherlock's breath hitched and John looked into his face to find the world's only consulting detective fighting tears for the second time in 24 hours. John was on the verge of panic; had he said something wrong? _Oh please no, don't let him push me away. _John instead found himself crushed in Sherlock's arms, who was shaking with the attempt of ridding himself of the tears that threatened to fall. John wrapped his arms around the other man's back and rocked him while stroking his hair. Soon the tremors ceased and John just held the man he loved while easing himself to sit the other mans lap to be closer to him. After a few minutes of holding each other Sherlock slid one hand down John's back and the other up into John's hair pulling it slightly to expose John's neck to him. He kissed the pulse point under John's chin and could feel the pulse quicken and John's fingers claw at his back through his shirt. "John" Sherlock's baritone muffled by John's skin, "do you really love me?" he asked while still kissing along the line of John's neck.

"Yes….OH! Sherlock, yes I do." John's response was breathy and he began to squirm against Sherlock's chest feeling himself grow harder at the returned affection. Sherlock pulled back and took a moment to examine his friend and expected to find him guarded and unsure, trying to hide. But instead he saw total exposure, raw and open. The two men were caught in a vacuum, like being drawn into a black hole, as they stared at each other; both sets of eyes reduced to rings of color around orbs of darkness, two sets of lips pink and flush from contact, and two hearts that for the first time found their other half and instead of beating as one in melody, beat together in harmony, completing the sirens song that drew them together at last. The room was absolutely still and without an outward indication, without the utterance of a single word it was as if there was a cataclysmic event, the explosion of stars, which propelled the two forward slamming themselves into each other with absolute need and abandon. Hands scrabbled to remove shirts and soon they were discarded onto the floor while lips, teeth, and tongues explored the expanse of newly exposed skin before them and whimpers and groans rang in the still air of the morning surrounding them in their own world. Nothing existed but them.

John was fisting Sherlock's inky curls and pressing his mouth to Sherlock's, who opened without hesitation and gripped John's hips to keep him close. Their tongue danced with and past each other's mapping out every detail of their mouths, tasting the essence of the other. John had to use effort to wrench his lips from where they were but the reward was worth it as he pulled Sherlock's hair to expose the underside of Sherlock's chin and neck, attaching his lips to the translucent skin just over his jugular and sucking until there was the bloom of a mark. John nipped his way down Sherlock's neck to his collar bone and slowly dragged the tip of his tongue across the ridge from Sherlock's neck to the ball of his shoulder eliciting a deep moan from the writhing man under him. As John worked his way back to the center of Sherlock's chest he moved his right hand to play with one of Sherlock's nipples and his left hand slid down Sherlock's flank to his hip and John fingered iliac crest peeking just over the elastic of Sherlock's sleep pants. Sherlock bucked his hips up into John and gripped the ex-Army man tighter desperate to find purchase or friction.

"Ah…Dear Christ Sherlock!" John nearly wailed and Sherlock was spurned into action. Wrapping his arms around John's waist he lifted him up and rose to his knees and proceeded to lower John to the mattress latching onto his lips again and settling between John's legs as they were wrapped around his hips to pull him close. John's hands moved down to Sherlock's pants and began to pull them off when Sherlock pulled away with fear in his face. John saw this and stopped immediately and cupped Sherlock's face with his warm hands.

"We don't have to do anything else if you don't want to." Admittedly John would have liked to and based on the reaction Sherlock's body was having it did to, but John was not going to push the issue if there was going to be one.

"I will admit that I have very little experience in these matters John" Sherlock's voice was shaking slightly and John stroked his face and hair, grinning. It was rare that Sherlock let down his defenses and John knew he would do so only for him. John held all of Sherlock's trust and in that moment the weight of it settled comfortably on his heart.

"Do you want to stop? Be honest Sherlock." John watched the other man's face as he seemed to think over his options.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, John, I'm sure."

"I will do this for you but I will not be used Sherlock. Do you understand?"

Sherlock took a moment to scan John's face and he understood what he meant. "You will give this to me this time but I imagine there would need to be a conversation about what continuing may mean."

John nodded. He had meant it when he asked Sherlock to let him love him because he knew that Sherlock needed to be loved. He was not a sociopath and the torment of spending most of his life at the mercy of others lashing out at him had done enough damage. If John could erase even a small fraction of that he would do so. Sherlock lowered himself to lie on top of John and wrapped his arms around the shorter man, nestling his head in the crook of John's neck. John left his legs wrapped around Sherlock's hips and slid his arms around his back the held him for a minute feeling the beat of his heart as it transferred through his breast bone and Sherlock's hot breath on his neck. After a moment John turned to face Sherlock and as he did so Sherlock raised his head to look at John. John captured that mouth, those lips again and used his knees to roll them over so Sherlock was beneath him.

"I have one more question." John mouthed against Sherlock as they parted for air.

"What is it John?"

"Who should top?" John thought the question sounded crude but he needed to know who to ready for what. All in all it was a fair question.

"I'll leave that to you, either is fine with me." Sherlock lent up to kiss John again and there was far more passion and desperation then there had been a kiss ago. John allowed his hands to roam down Sherlock's chest and he moved away to suck on one of Sherlock's nipples while playing the edge of Sherlock's sleep pants again. Sherlock's hands wove themselves into John's short blonde hair and his breathing was coming in short bursts. John eventually palmed Sherlock's length through his pants and Sherlock yelped and dug his heels onto the bed. John grinned again and sat back on his knees to remove the remainder of Sherlock's clothing and then his own, tossing both sets of pants to the floor with the long forgotten shirts. Sherlock lay there breathing heavily and John could not help but admire the creature before him, vulnerable and needy. Sherlock was making his own evaluation of John, his tanned skin covering more muscle then Sherlock thought he had. He knew John was strong but he never really revealed the source. Sherlock had also never felt he was attractive; but instead a pale, gangly, slip of a human being, all limbs. But the look on John's face told a whole different story, one of abject desire and want. Sherlock let his gaze rove over the rest of John and he felt his face grow hot; not only was John's face reflecting how much he wanted Sherlock but so was his cock, standing straight up and at attention and knowing that it was all for him made Sherlock get harder as well.

John began to run his fingers down the insides of Sherlock's thigh from his knees to the place where his legs joined his pelvis and Sherlock's legs began to shake while he fisted the sheets and bit his lower lip. John reveled in his control but was not one to abuse it and after a few times up and down Sherlock's legs he leaned over Sherlock and brushed his lips over his before suckling at the soft spot behind his ear.

"You're beautiful like this Sherlock." John whispered and Sherlock clutched at John's back digging his nails in. John had lowered his hips and began to slowly grind against Sherlock and both men gasped at the contact of their cocks trapped between them. Sherlock's skin felt like it was on fire and every synapse in his body was screaming in pleasure. John kissed him and all of the tenderness had evaporated; it was rough and demanding and more teeth then lips, and Sherlock bit down on John's bottom lip hard before soothing the mark with his tongue and grabbing John's arse and grinding up into him making John moan. John had to use every ounce of will power he possessed to tear away from Sherlock's grasp and the younger man whimpered at the loss of contact, but John kept it brief while he dug around in the side table drawer for anything that he could use, coming up with a small tub of Vaseline. He crouched between Sherlock's knees and began to run the tip of his tongue up the insides of Sherlock's thighs, interspersing the use of his teeth along the smooth skin feeling his penis twitch with every keening whimper and moan that Sherlock gave. Sherlock was lost to the sensation to John's hot wet mouth on him and he felt like he was being consumed body and soul and he had lost all control of himself, his hips rising off the bed.

"John…_please, please._" Sherlock begged.

"Shhh Sherlock, I've got you." John whispered and he placed his hands on Sherlock's hips stilling him and placing kisses along both sides of the crests of bone. John ghosted his lips over Sherlock's length inhaling the heady sent of mint and cinnamon before running the whole of his tongue along the underside of Sherlock's cock.

"OH GOD John!" Sherlock bucked wildly and as John swallowed him whole and hollowed his cheeks. Sherlock tasted like sea cotton, a faint hint of salt but it wasn't overwhelming, and the weight of him in John's mouth made him moan and the vibrations caused Sherlock to arch up into him. John's mouth was hot and wet and quite possibly the most fantastic sensation Sherlock had ever experienced and for the first time his mind went blank and was filled with delicious white noise; he was completely unaware of the string of nonsensical sounds pouring from his mouth and his hands had embedded themselves into John's hair. Sherlock managed to look up and could see John's head bobbing up and down slowly and he could feel every swipe of John's tongue over him, pressing along his length and circling the head; he threw his head back squeezing his eyes shut and bucking into John's mouth again. Sherlock didn't notice that John had reached over to pop open the tub of Vaseline and slick up three of his fingers. He slowly massaged the tight ring of muscle feeling Sherlock tense at the sensation but he didn't press, not yet. He slid his mouth off of Sherlock and watched his face while he continued to circle his opening.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes John, yes please don't stop." Sherlock began to grind his hips down and gripped John's hair, scraping his scalp in anticipation. John leaned in and kissed his hip bones again and slid one slicked finger beyond the tight ring of muscle. John watched Sherlock's face for any signs of severe discomfort and could feel his body working around him, adjusting to the intrusion. After waiting for a few seconds to allow the prone man to adjust John began to slide his finger in and out while using his other hand to stroke softly at Sherlock's flank while Sherlock gave soft moans. John watched his face dance as he tried to catalogue every sensation and John slid a second finger in slowly and Sherlock's mouth went slack and he groaned deep in his chest. It stung a little but the overwhelming sensation of being stretched, opened and exposed was deliciously cathartic and he could feel John's slick fingers probing and exploring his insides. He rocked his hips back impaling himself on John's fingers and John grinned at the wonton state of the, otherwise, impenetrable consulting detective. John decided he was ready enough and removed his fingers leaving Sherlock open and wanting, dipping his fingers back into the Vaseline tub and slicked himself up liberally and leaned back over Sherlock lifting his hips up and align himself with his entrance. John kissed him with the intent of reassuring him and Sherlock locked his lips with those of his doctor and there was a hunger there that needed to be sated, a thirst that would not be quenched. John pulled back only slightly to look him in the eye and the air between the two crackled with electricity. Sherlock wrapped his long legs around John's hips and pulled him in sucking air in between his teeth as he was stretched and he threw his head back and curled his arms over John's back.

"Fucking Hell Sherlock! You are…so…_tight_!" John held himself still to let Sherlock adjust and to keep himself from being thrown off the edge of _that _cliff. John could feel Sherlock start to squirm and slide his hips under him and he began to move slowly with shallow thrusts at first nipping at Sherlock's collar bone and neck. Sherlock had dug his nails into the flesh of John's back creating ten crescents and he dug his heels onto the dimples on John's lower back and lifting his hips to have John in him as deeply as possible; moaning and writhing with every thrust.

"More John…pl..pl..please I _need more…_" hearing Sherlock beg went straight to Johns groin and he pulled further out only to slam his hips back into Sherlock causing his detective to nearly scream and John set a steady and rough pace, watching every twitch of Sherlock face as he allowed John to pour out every ounce of love he had for this man. With a circling of his hips John hit Sherlock's prostate.

"OHGODOHGODOHGOD!" Sherlock's eyes flew open and he clenched his muscles feeling every inch of John moving within him. "Faster John, please faster" he whispered meeting thrust for thrust with John and attacking his mouth voraciously. John could feel the clinch in his gut and he knew he was getting close, but this was still for Sherlock more than him and he was determined for it to stay that way. John pulled one of Sherlock's arms from around his shoulders and twined his fingers through his, holding his hand near Sherlock's head on the mattress and shifted his weight to that hand while snaking the other between them to grasp Sherlock's prick all without easing he pace. He stroked Sherlock using the copious amount of pre-cum as lube and his trusts to push Sherlock into the tight ring of his fingers.

"John…Joh...hhn…I'm, I'm gonna…Oh Christ John…" Sherlock had clamped his eyes shut and thrown his head back against the bed exposing his neck. John kept up his pounding and stroking, leaning in to Sherlock and teething his ear lobe.

"Sherlock, open your eyes." John breathed. Sherlock shook his head back and forth squeezing John's hand. "Sherlock, please look at me. I want to see you." Sherlock didn't open his eyes immediately, afraid of what he would see but when John asked to see him it was impossible for him to refuse his doctor anything. He slowly cracked his eyes open and watched John's face as the feeling if being inside Sherlock washed over his features and he was flush with exertion. Sherlock could feel the tightening in his abdomen and with every thrust from John, striking his prostate every third time and the feel of his hands on him, he knew he was close. John leaned his forehead against Sherlock's and was breathing heavily.

"I love you Sherlock. Let go."

This was everything Sherlock needed to hear, everything he ever wanted to know and when John told him this he felt his heart explode. At that moment Sherlock came apart at the seams and his orgasm tore threw him and the only thing he could think was John and he came with that name on his lips, spattering semen over John's hand and both of their stomachs. John was close behind and with a few more thrusts he was filling Sherlock and riding the waves of his own release and collapsed onto Sherlock's chest.

Both men lay there, still connected, chests heaving. Letting a few moments pass to catch his breath John rolled off Sherlock and the bed on shaky legs.

"John?" He turned to face Sherlock who had ringed one of his wrists with is long fingers.

"I'll be right back Sherlock; I'm just getting a rag to clean us up a bit." John smiled and slid his wrist from Sherlock's grasp. He was only gone for two minutes having cleaned himself and returning with a damp cloth proceeded to wipe Sherlock down, tossing the rag to the floor when he was satisfied with the job. John looked down at Sherlock but did not climb back onto the bed causing Sherlock to examine his face. He extended his arms and motioned for John to join him and they both adjusted to climb back under the covers, Sherlock wrapping his long limbs around John and nestling his head on John's chest; he could hear his companions heart beat pick up slightly and he sighed in contentment. John carded one hand through Sherlock's hair.

"Thank you John."

"For what?" John was pretty sure he knew what he was being thanked for but he wanted to hear it from the other man before he made assumptions; it was always a bad thing to assume with Sherlock.

"For that, for caring,…" _For loving me. _It hung in the air but he wasn't sure he could bring himself to say it; to truly admit that he needed it. But John always did what was needed, gave Sherlock what he needed. John kissed the top of Sherlock's head, inhaling the scent of his hair.

"Always Sherlock."


End file.
